


The Dog Whisperer

by Callisto



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Curtain Fic, M/M, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-07
Updated: 2011-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-17 17:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callisto/pseuds/Callisto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“Jensen, what—”</i></p><p><i>“Just come here.” Jensen tugs Jared’s sleeve with his free hand while he balances the bowl on his lap. “Me and the mutt got something to show you, don’t we, boy?”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dog Whisperer

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray into RPS. Set loosely around the filming of S4, it's more Jensen and Harley than anything.
> 
> Beta'd by Ancasta, who calls it 'a J2 cupcake'.

“Hey, girl.” Jared closes the front door behind him and reaches down to pat Sadie, who stands on her hind legs just like always, her front paws up and stretched as high on him as they can get and her tail a happy swish behind her.

It’s nice and it’s Sadie and it’s what she likes to do, but his heart hurts a little because it’s all so calm. He scratches her ears and tries hard not to feel the tug of the four-legged bowling ball that’s missing, the one that’s usually knocking his knees out by now and getting Sadie all hyped up and barking. He straightens, throws his keys in the bowl and then pauses. Faint sounds of canned laughter are coming from the back of the house. No one’s supposed to be home, and Harley is probably doing what Harley has been doing every day for too long: lying in the kitchen with his head on his paws, ignoring all attempts to make him bounce up and bite the ass out of the world again.

“Jen?”

“Back here.”

“I thought you were heading out today to check out—”

He breaks off. Jensen is sitting on the couch and the TV is on, which he was kind of expecting once he heard his voice. Jensen is in sweatpants and a burnt red T, which he kind of wasn’t. Those are Jensen’s fuck-around-at-home-all-day clothes. But the biggest surprise is sitting at Jensen’s feet. Sitting. Not lying, head now turning back toward Jared, tail trying out a slow thump on the carpet.

“Hey,” says Jared, coming forward quickly as Harley tries to get up and greet him. He crouches down and saves him the effort, rubbing his hands over his fur and burying his head in close. He’s aware he’s crooning nonsense and that Jensen is right there listening and watching, but he really doesn’t care right now. It’s not how Harley is supposed to be, but it’s still _something_. He looks up at Jensen, who has the weirdest expression on his face, like he’s bursting to show Jared something. And then he realizes Jensen has got the fingers of his right hand in a plastic bowl...

“Jensen, what—”

“Just come here.” Jensen tugs Jared’s sleeve with his free hand while he balances the bowl on his lap. “Me and the mutt got something to show you, don’t we, boy?”

Jared sits next to Jensen on the couch, and then watches in amazement as Jensen puts his hand into the bowl, scoops up a small amount of whatever it is and extends it to Harley. Who leans forward and licks it ever so precisely off Jensen’s fingers.

Jared swallows. “Jensen...”

“I know, I know, it’s people food. But it’s not really, because I’m squishing up the steak and potatoes around his dry stuff. And I boiled the meat first, and then I put it through the—”

Jared presses his face into Jensen’s neck and wraps his arms around Jensen’s shoulders in a sideways hug, cutting him off. He has to, because Jensen seems to think Jared might be _angry_ about this.

The tumor was removed. It was benign and everything healed, but Harley gave up food three days ago, and he’s been turning his head away from his bowl every single fucking time. And yet here’s Jensen, in his sweats and on his day off, cooking up God knows what to coax the dumb dog Jared loves more than he should into eating. So yeah, he’s going to sniff loudly, and yeah he’s going to turn his head away and rest his cheek on the blade of Jensen’s left shoulder while he does it. Because he might just lose his shit entirely if he thinks about this too hard right now. Jensen can call him a sap if he wants.

But Jensen doesn’t.

“He’s going to be fine, Jay,” Jensen says quietly. And Jared feels the press of Jensen’s head on his, just briefly. Then Jensen turns his attention back to Harley. “Aren’t you, Harley? That’s my good dog. Yes, there you go. Atta boy.” More delicate licking noises, so Jared turns his head to face front and watch, because he’s being an idiot, and the ship sailed long ago on him and dignity around either Jensen or Harley. He keeps his arms around Jensen, though.

“You really boiled and pureed our steaks?”

“Uh-huh. You and me are having eggs.” Jensen doesn’t look at him, just stretches out another gooey handful.

Jared reaches down and scratches Harley under his chin as the dog eats the food, and he’s gratified to get another tail thump. He leans in and kisses Jensen on his left temple. He rests his lips there a moment and closes his eyes, grateful beyond belief for just about _everything_.

“Thanks,” he manages.

“You’re welcome,” says Jensen.

Jared opens his eyes and moves back a little, starting to smile. “And how would the dog whisperer like his eggs?”

Jensen starts to smile a little too. “This particular dog whisperer would like them scrambled. And with a shitload of butter.”

“One shitload of butter it is, then.”

And when Jared is out in the kitchen scrambling the eggs, it makes him a million kinds of happy to look down and see Harley looking up, ever-hopeful paw right back on Jared’s foot where it belongs.

******


End file.
